


Sleepless Nights (at the end of the world)

by pikasafire



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Babies, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikasafire/pseuds/pikasafire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't supposed to happen. In the lists of things Brent wasn't expecting, this is at least third on the list, after 'being able to talk to animals' and 'growing wings' (but before 'zombie apocalypse').</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless Nights (at the end of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic depicts real-life wives. Not your thing? Click the back button. This is the fault of barefoot_starz (once again -- who's surprised?). Inspired by the hilarious fact that both of their wives are pregnant - seriously guys, do you do everything together?

This wasn't supposed to happen. In the lists of things Brent wasn't expecting, this is at least third on the list, after 'being able to talk to animals' and 'growing wings' (but before zombie apocalypse).

The four of them sit quietly at the table, two identical pregnancy sticks sitting on their wrappers between them. Two little lines clear in the window.

"Well," Duncan says, "That's weird."

Kelly shrugs, "Not really. We both got sick at the same time and took the same antibiotics. And we practically live together so it makes sense our cycles are synced. And we definitely had sex at the same time."

Brent has no idea how they're all so _calm_ about this. "What do we do?" He asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, "Whose baby is whose?"

He mustn't be successful because Duncan grabs his arm, "Jesus, take a breath. It's fine. We'll have them, if we all want them. We would've had kids at some point, right?"

"But-" Yeah, definitely panicking. "We swap. What if Dayna's pregnant with your baby? What if Kelly has mine?"

Duncan just gives him a weird look, "Does it matter?" He asks curiously, "We're doing this together, right?"

It’s a stupid question. "Yeah, yeah of course."

Duncan leans in close, hand still reassuring on Brent's arm. "Hey, think about it, okay. We're not going to make a decision without you."

Brent just stares at him. "A baby." He says, a mix of awe and horror, "two of them."

Duncan grins at him, "Yeah."

*

It's not that Brent doesn't want kids. He does. But, this whole thing, well... that's not just fucking around occasionally, this is two whole new people who are going to come into their lives. To be honest, Brent's not sure how that's supposed to work. They don't live together, or spend all their time together. Would they have to all move into the one house? Would they just separate the kids? What if something went wrong?

"You okay?" Duncs pokes his head around the door to the bathroom.

It's not that Brent's hiding. He's just... totally hiding.

"Yeah," he musters an unconvincing smile, "I'm fine."

Duncan doesn't say anything, coming in and closing the door behind him, sitting on the cold tiles next to Brent. "So. Babies," he says, nudging Brent with his elbow.

Brent lets out a long breath. "Yeah." There's a long silence. "How is that going to work?" He asks after a moment. Do we keep our houses? Do we move in together?"

"I don't know," Duncan shrugs, their shoulders touching, "I guess we'll just... keep one each? They'll pretty much be raised together anyway, right?"

"What if-"

"I don't care if the baby Kelly has is yours." Duncan says, "We don’t swap that often, and it's just genetics. Doesn't mean I'll love it any less. And without a test, it's not like we'll know, yeah? It'll still be Kelly's." He laughs, "If it turns out to be thick as a brick, I'll know it's yours."

Brent can’t help but grin. "Yeah. And I know if mine is a complete weirdo, it's definitely yours." There's a pause, "We won't, um, stop. Will we?"

It takes Duncan a second to figure out what Brent's asking. "No way." He says, "Why would we stop?" He thinks for a moment. "Look, I married Kelly. But-" He trails off, grabs Brent's hand and gives it a hard squeeze, "Look. We won't stop. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." Brent says, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "One each. Raised together. Alright."

"Awesome," Duncan winces, "Can we stop hiding now? This floor is hard."

"Yeah, we can stop hiding."

*

Okay. So, they're doing this. That's cool. Brent's not freaking out at all. Which, okay yeah, total lie, but whatever. He's got it together. They've agreed not to say anything to anyone until after three months, which is only, like, two weeks away, but Brent's jittery and uncomfortable and Sharpy is like a fucking bloodhound when it comes to secrets.

"So," Sharpy says, skating over to where Brent's sitting on the bench. "You've got a secret."

"What? No I don't." Brent says, high pitched and panicky.

"Yeah, you do. And I know it."

"How?" Brent demands, then pauses, "No, you don't!"

"Well, no." Sharpy allows, "But _now_ I know you have one." One day Brent won't fall for that. "So," Sharpy says, "What's the secret?"

"Weirdly enough," Brent scowls, "It's a _secret_."

"I won't tell."

"Liar." Sharpy is incapable of keeping secrets. Ever. It’s like an illness with him.

Sharpy just laughs, "C’mon. Don't make me guess." Brent reminds stubbornly silent and Sharpy rolls his eyes, pondering for a moment. "I know. You and Duncs are having a baby."

Brent flushes, "Shut up," he hisses, "Keep your voice down!"

"I- are you serious?" Sharpy stares at him, "Okay, you know you're both guys, right?"

"What?" Brent groans, "You're so fucking stupid. Look, you can't tell anyone, right?" He takes a breath. "Dayna and Kelly are pregnant." Sharpy pauses for a moment, perfect poker face before he collapses against the boards, laughing himself stupid. "It's not funny!" Brent hisses, "You can't say anything!"

Sharpy's laughing too hard to reply.

Kaner skates over, tapping his stick against Sharpy's shins, staring curiously, "What's his problem?"

"No idea," Brent says, climbing over the boards and skating away. "Been wondering that for years."

*

"Sharpy knows." Brent admits after practice, Duncan looks over at him, eyebrow raised.

"How?"

"He guessed!" Brent says defensively. It’s mostly true. But, everyone knows that next to Sharpy and Kaner, Brent is totally the third worst at keeping secrets.

"Did you tell him not to say anything?" Duncs asks, frowning. “Just for another few weeks?”

"Of course."

"And?"

"He was laughing too hard to reply." Brent says.

Duncs sighs, “I’ll call him.”

*

They're having a baby and Brent is totally calm.

Except its twelve weeks now and Brent's clutching a ultrasound scan between white knuckled fingers, trying desperately not to hyperventilate in the locker room.

There's the general commotion around him, getting ready for practice. Sharpy nudges him, eyebrow raised. "You alright there, Seabs?"

"Fine." he says faintly. He holds out the ultrasound picture. "I'm having a baby." He says, and it's not like he didn't know that before, but now, with Dayna sick all the time, and addicted to those gross pretzel sticks and Brent is holding a picture of _their baby_. It's hit him like a puck to the head.

"I know." Sharpy says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Hey Duncs, your boy here is having a crisis."

"Again?" Duncs wanders over, half in his gear, prying Brent’s hand open to look at the ultrasound photo. "Ooh, the scan. Let me see! Pretty cool, huh?"

Brent stares at him. "How are you not freaking out?"

Duncs shrugs, "Kelly and I had longer to get used to it, I guess." He kicks Sharpy until he moves over, sits next to Brent in Sharpy's stall, "We were kinda planning them sometime soon anyway."

"You know," Sharpy says, "I know you guys do everything together and all, but isn't this a bit much? Did you have a schedule for fucking or something? Or," he raises his eyebrows suggestively, "Do you do everything together?"

Duncs laughs, Brent doesn’t. It's meaningless chirping and seriously, Brent should be used to it by now. He and Duncs have been dealing with married jokes for _years_ , but, for some reason, this time it hits a little close to home. He ducks his head, staring at the picture of the tiny person growing inside his wife.

Sharpy’s laughter dies away, “Oh God, you’re not fucking serious, are you?” He looks at them for a moment, “Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know.” He stands up, claps Duncs on the shoulder, “I’m happy staying as far away from your freaky sex lives as possible. Congrats on the kids. I will never, ever babysit.”

“Seriously, Seabs?” Duncs says, but there’s fond amusement in his voice, “C’mon. Stop freaking out. It’ll be awesome. We’ll be fine.” He nudges him with his elbow, “Get ready for practice, or we’ll be late. We’ll tell the team afterwards, if you want? If Sharpy hasn’t already.”

“Yeah.” He tucks the picture away in his stall, takes a deep breath. Yeah. He can do this.

*

Who thought having a baby was so complicated? These days, Brent spends his free time reading websites and blogs and the books that his mother sends him after he calls to tell her she’s going to be a Grandma. Babies are apparently the most complicated pieces of equipment known to man. How do people _do_ this? Sharpy is useless, but Abby is more than happy to answer Brent’s fifteen million texts. There’s things like cribs and toys and diapers and about seventy three different types of creams and powders and oils. Oh, God. He’s going to accidently kill it. He seriously doesn’t know how Duncs is staying so calm about all this and this is happening _soon_.

“I’m going to be a terrible father,” he moans, faceplanting yet another parenting book sent to him by his mother. “Seriously. I don’t even know. This book says you shouldn’t have bumpers in the crib, y’know, those stupid pieces of fabric that cover the sides? But this other one says you should.” He’s aware he’s panicking. Again. “How the fuck do I know which one’s right?”

“Okay.” Duncs says, picking the books up from the table and piling them in his arms, “You know what? I think I’m just going to take these away.”

Brent grabs for them, “Then I won’t know _anything_.”

“Seabs.” Duncan sighs, “You know people have been having babies for centuries, right? It’s not like it’s rocket science. You’ll be fine. Seriously. Hasn’t Dayna been talking to you about this?”

“Of course she has.” Brent says, “But, she knows more about this than me. I’m trying to catch up.”

The look Duncan gives him tells him he’s being an idiot. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? You’re not going to catch up. Girls are like, I don’t even know, fucking _sponges_ when it comes to this. I’m having enough trouble trying to figure out how to put together the crib so it doesn’t collapse when we put the baby in it. Just. Relax.” Duncan rolls his eyes, tone affectionate. “I don’t know who’s been more work during this pregnancy. The girls, or you and your freak-outs.”

“I just. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Yeah. I know.” Duncan drops the books, rubs a comforting hand over the nape of Brent’s neck. “Me too. But, hey, we have awesome wives to tell us when we’re fucking up, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Awesome. Now come over and help me put together this fucking crib. Then I’ll help with yours. I don’t even understand how I could have gotten it so wrong.”

*

Brent’s pretty sure he couldn’t be more prepared if he tried. There’s a bag packed by the front door, the baby’s room is set up and perfect in greens and yellows. And now it’s the waiting game.

Brent _hates_ waiting. And with him gone every few days, he’s jumpy and high strung. What if he’s not there when it happens? What if something goes wrong and Dayna can’t get hold of him? He knows he’s being irrational, but it’s hard. At least Duncan is as high strung as he is. He still feels so unprepared for something as big as a baby. It’s almost more stressful than a Stanley Cup Final.

The rest of the Hawks have a betting pool going on which baby will come first.

Brent wins.

He has a missed call and a voice message from Dayna after the game. A quiet, “Honey, Kelly and I are at the hospital. Baby’s on its way. No need to rush, it’ll be awhile. See you when you get here.” And Brent almost has a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby.” he says to Duncs, eyes wide. “Hospital. Now.”

“Kelly or Dayna?” Duncan asks, looking as freaked out as Brent feels.

“Dayna.” Brent starts to pull his gear off, quick, frantic movements, “Shit. I knew this would happen.”

Sharpy steps between them, hand on their shoulders. “Relax,” Sharpy says, “Fucking hell. Both of you breathe. You’ll be fine. Go shower, get dressed. Babies take forever.” He shakes his head, “You’re probably not going to sleep for the rest of forever. Appreciate the ability to have a shower in peace now.” The rest of the Hawks are watching them with interest and Sharpy lets go, turns to address the room. “Alright, everyone. Apparently Seabs here has won the race. Who’s got the pool?”

Duncan and Brent ignore him entirely, rushing silently through the showers and dressing as fast as they can. “I’ll drive,” Duncan says, as they get to the carpark. “We’ll pick your car up later.”

“It’s got the baby seat in it.”

Duncan grins, “So does mine. Stop freaking out,”

“ _You_ stop freaking out.” Brent says, barely aware of what he’s even saying, “Holy fuck, Duncs. _Baby_.” 

“I know, man. Too bad the girls couldn’t co-ordinate that too, huh?”

Brent laughs, breathless, stomach churning with nerves and excitement. Oh, God. No turning back now.

*

Brent can’t really remember much of the labor. There’s lots of screaming and tears and not much sleep at all. Duncs is there for most of it, Kelly too.

Brent’s pretty sure Dayna’s broken half the bones in his hand, Duncs’ hand steady on his back as he tries his best to help Dayna through it. It’s interminable, then way too fast. Fifteen hours until there’s the squalling cry of a newborn, messy and distressed.

“A boy.” Brent says. “ _It’s a boy_.”

Duncs leans over his shoulder as the baby's placed in Dayna's arms, hand on Brent's hip. "He's beautiful," he whispers.

"Yeah," and if his voice is a little wet as he reaches out with hesitant fingers to brush his fingers over the skin of the baby's hand, no one mentions it.

*

Three days later, they go through it again; another little boy. Brent feels a little more prepared this time but can't help the fluttery nervousness in his stomach as he watches Kelly go through it.

The team sends presents and balloons and flowers, birth announcements sent out in a joint mass text that maybe says more than they should:

_Brent, Duncan, Dayna and Kelly are pleased to announce the arrival of two healthy baby boys. Ryan Patrick (7lb 12oz) and Aaron David (8lb 3oz). Thanks to everyone for the well wishes. We'll be ready for visitors soon!_

They get a few smart ass texts, asking whose is which that they steadfastly ignore and by the end of the first week, Brent's not sure if he can even answer it.

Brent and Duncan sprawl out on the floor in Brent's lounge room, a baby asleep on each of them.

"It looks like a baby apocalypse in here," Brent says sleepily. There's an assortment of bottles and baby slings, clothes and toys spread all over the floor.

"Y'know," Duncan says, just as exhausted, "We'd probably get more sleep if they were zombies. Somehow. I don't know."

Brent laughs, stifling it the best he can when the movement jostles Ryan half awake, flailing a tiny arm. "Shh, sorry baby." Brent says, rubbing his back gently. "We just need to keep them alive for eighteen years," he says, when Ryan's settled, "Then we win the apocalypse, right?"

"Mm, I don't know if this analogy makes sense anymore." Duncs says. "But I'll go with yes."

Brent falls asleep like that, to the sound of the girls talking in the dining room, Duncan sleeping next to him, and the quiet breathing of his two sons. This may have been unexpected, but Brent's pretty sure it'll all work out.

*


End file.
